Bought By The Billionaire - BDSM 18 novel Chapter 10

My Master’s erection is huge, and at almost any other time, I would struggle to accommodate him, but in my state of screaming arousal, he sheathes himself, full-length, straight into my dripping passage, pounding into me.

I scream again, and an orgasm wells up once more, my pussy walls grasping and gripping as they throb around him.

His hand leaves my back and I feel him grasping me by the waist, forcing me back and forth against his rhythm, heightening the drive of his shaft, intensifying his already deep thrusting as he rams into me, plunging into my depths.

Through my own cries, I hear him moan and gasp, feel the pulsing of his cock spurting into me. For moments, he holds shuddering against me, then relaxes down onto me with a gasp.

For half a minute, he simply lies on top of me spent, before taking a couple of deep breaths. I feel him kiss the back of my neck. “That was good, Elizabeth. Thank you.” He pulls away, moving to unshackle me.

He throws me a white terry cloth robe and puts one on himself. “Ready to eat?” he asks.

I suddenly realise I am starving. “Oh, yes, I am.”

“We’ll have something sent up. Order what you want. I’ll have a steak, rare.”

I order the same for myself, slightly self-conscious to be asking for service from people I was working with only the day before.

“What happened downstairs in the lobby, Elizabeth? You looked upset as you came in.”

“I’d forgotten to give them my letter of resignation,” I said sheepishly. “They wanted to know why the maid was taking the private lift to the penthouse.”

He looks me in the eyes. “You didn’t forget. It was here. I’m sure you assumed that I would pass it along. In fact, I had realised that it is not appropriate.”

Confused, I shake my head.

He continues. “You haven’t resigned. You’ve simply been promoted. Yesterday, you were just as much my employee as today. I own this hotel, remember? You are simply working under a different contract.”

My Master takes my chin in his hand, kissing my forehead. “I’m sorry if I caused you embarrassment. I should have thought to let them know down there. I was thinking of you in other ways …”

He is apologising to me?

He wiggles his eyebrows at me and winks, and I laugh.

“Now,” he continues, “a break, I think, for some rest and refreshments.”

A break? And then?

There is a knock at the door. “Room service.”

He smiles at me. “Ah, perfect timing.” Then he calls out, “Leave it there.”

Turning back to me, he says, “I’ll make sure that things are settled with your previous manager. For now, I don’t see the need for you to meet any of the other staff.”

He waits a moment, then opens the door, bringing in a trolley bearing our meals, plus champagne on ice and strawberries and cream.

His breathing is patchy, and looking up, I see him looking back down at me, watching as his cock slides in and out of my mouth. With my lips, I give him as tight of a grip as I can, and with my hands, I feel his tension build. His balls tighten and harden, his musky scent growing stronger as his flow increases. I taste his essence filling my mouth, and then, with a groan, he grabs my head firmly, pinning me and thrusting hard into my mouth. My hands prevent him from filling my throat, but as he spurts I gag, his cum hitting the back of my throat. His pelvis flexes and bucks as he shoots into me and cum dribbles from my lips, dripping onto my breasts.

As he relaxes, he pulls my head back, withdrawing from me a little and turning my face upwards. “Don’t even think about spitting,” he says, his eyes intense as he watches me lick my lips clean and swallow his cream. He reaches down, and with one finger, he wipes the cum from my breasts and holds his finger to my mouth. “Finish it.” And I lick his finger clean.

“Good girl,” he says approvingly. “Now, finish your strawberries.”

I am lying on a bed, blindfolded and with my arms stretched wide above my head, chained to the bedposts.

I am wearing very little—a silky black camisole, stockings with black lacy tops, and a matching thong, which, right now, is doing little except act as a partial barrier to my flooding pussy.

My legs are spread, and kneeling between them I think, although I cannot be sure because I cannot see or even move very well, is Richard Haswell, billionaire owner of one of the largest corporations in the country, perhaps the world. My Master.

Two weeks ago, I didn’t have anything. I was an almost penniless student doing dead-end work to make ends meet. Now, I have an amazing job, am receiving top-class training so that I will one day be qualified and independent in my own right, am showered with beautiful clothes, wined and dined, and taken to amazing places. And for all this, all I have to do is give my Master whatever he wants, whenever he wants it.

I think he is still clothed. I feel the smooth fabric of his tight cut black jeans rubbing against my open thighs, his erection pressed against my stomach.

His lips are suckling on my left nipple; his tongue is manipulating and kneading it, sending electric currents of desire shockingly down through my stomach, hips, and aching cunt.

He switches to the other nipple, and forcing my legs farther apart with his knees, he arranges me to his satisfaction. His hot breath on the sensitive skin of my breasts is making me flush and sweat. I feel his tongue trail along my cleavage, licking me dry. My breath is rapid and shallow, and as his tongue rides back to a nipple, he bites, not hard, but enough to startle me and I half gasp, half yelp at the almost pain of his nip.

“No noise, Elizabeth,” he says. “This time, I want you silent.” Then he bites the other nipple. Arching my back and shuddering, I try to obediently be silent through my panting.